


save a horse (ride a cowboy)

by kirishimaaa



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: M/M, arthur is very drunk and charles is very pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2019-10-01 05:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17237870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirishimaaa/pseuds/kirishimaaa
Summary: "You're real pretty. You know that?" Arthur slurs.Charles blinks. This is one of the few times he's looked well and truly caught off guard. It's a good look on him. "Pardon?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _everybody says_
> 
>  
> 
> _save a horse,_
> 
>  
> 
> _ride a cowboy_
> 
>  
> 
> _-The bible, probably_

No matter how many times he did it, getting good and goddamn drunk never lost it's value.

His head was hazy, clouded over with a numbing, thoughtless feeling. Camp had never looked so... swirly, made him sorta dizzy, but hey. Hey!

Arthur felt fuckin' good, better than he's felt in a long time, and all it took was several pints of whiskey. 

He gulped down the last bit of alcohol, tossing the bottle somewhere to the side. The burn in his throat faded, and he swiped a hand across his mouth. 

Welp. Nothin' else to do but walk around camp. Or try to. He was unsteady at best, stride bordering on silly-looking as he staggered his way to...something. What, you may ask? He had no goddamn idea, but he wasn’t gonna sit alone and drunk. Now that was just sad.

He noticed Ms. Grimshaw at the edge of camp, chastising some poor feller who'd gone a few too many days without a bath. 

Arthur tipped the brim of his hat at the guy solemnly. Lord knows he'd gone through that too. Nothing got past that lady, he swears. 

She'd probably smack him upside the head if she caught him this drunk in camp, heh.

Any humor in that evaporated the second she glanced in his direction, eyes narrowed, and Arthur quickly stumbled in the opposite direction, whispering, "Oh shit, oh shit—"

He wasn't chancing that, oh hell no. Time to avoid that entire side of camp. 

Everyone was either passed out or busy. 

Arthur was good to get an eyeroll from 'em when he'd pass by, slurring their name cheerfully until being ignored got boring, and he'd move on. 

He sees a lone figure sitting at the fire, hunched over and strands of black hair spilling past his shoulders, down his back. 

Blinking blearily, he hobbles closer to the sight. 

Something in his drunk, drunk brain jumps suddenly, because—

"Charles! S'at you, Charles?" 

Why hadn't he thought of going to see him first? He was better than all those sticks a' mud, wasn't he? Sure he was! 

Charles pauses, head raising to glance behind him, eyebrow raised. Arthur waves, grinning.

"...I suppose it is." He says, and god _damn_ , if his voice wasn't soothing to a drunkard's ears. Deep and even-toned. 

"Charleees!" Arthur bellows again, just because he can and he wants to. Charles was a good name. Mighty good. Fit him like a glove. 

He stumbles forward, plopping down on a stump, smack dab next to the man of the hour. 

Charles' nose wrinkles, the smell of whiskey overpowering, "You've been drinking."

It's a statement, not a question. Arthur still says, "Sure have!" 

Charles looks unimpressed. Not a bad look on the guy, but then again, did anything look bad on him? No, no it didn’t. The guy was easily the cleanest of all the men, but he could go without bathing for weeks ‘till he stank to high heaven and looked like hell, and it’d still somehow work for him. Magic, I tell ya. 

"Why?" 

Everything he says is so short and clipped. Makes Arthur wanna tell him to talk more, talk longer. 

"Why not?" Arthur says, and then wheezes out a laugh and slaps his knee like he'd told a joke. 

There goes that arched eyebrow again. "How much did you drink?"

Arthur doesn't know the answer to that, nor does he really wanna know. Not like he counts bottles, now does he? You drink to forget, not to remember, after all! 

He doesn't want to continue this topic, his hazed mind already bored with it. So he opts for something better. 

"You're real pretty. You know that?" 

Charles blinks. This is one of the few times he's looked well and truly caught off guard. It's a good look on him. "Pardon?"

"You...are..." Arthur drags out, half to get the point across and half because he's sloshed. "pretty."

He lays a hand on Charles' shoulder, lax and casual. Charles is silent for another few seconds. 

"You're drunk." He says finally, like he's trying to reason why the flaming hell Arthur would openly say something like that. "You should-"

"And you're a fine piece of ass. We statin' facts now?"

They didn’t call it liquid courage for nothing, and Arthur was for sure risking his entire goddamn life.

Charles makes a choking sound, fist pounding against his chest as he coughs, eyes wide. _"What?"_

"I said, you're a fine piece a'—"

Charles gets up and Arthur's grip on him slips, hand falling away. "I think it's time for you to go somewhere and clear your head, Arthur."

With no warning, Arthur falls forward onto his knees, dangerously close to the fire, and proceeds to vomit up his entire stomach. 

Whiskey'll sure do that to ya, huh. 

The fire ran uncomfortably warm against his face. The pungent smell of alcohol and vomit was really not helping him feel any less nauseated.

When he finally gets up, he wobbles in place like a newborn deer. Not a very good thing to do so close to a fire. 

Charles, being the good friend and hot piece of ass he was, takes him by the shoulder and yanks him backward. Arthur's back hits a stocky chest, and Charles' voice rings low and quiet in his ear when he says, "Careful, now."

Whew boy. Wheeeew boy. He'd better remember this tomorrow, drunk off his ass or not. 

"Thank ya ever so kindly, dear." Arthur slurs, wiping the spittle off his mouth with his sleeve. He looks over just in time to see Charles' lip twitch. 

"Anytime." Charles starts leading him away, his hand going around Arthur's waist, a comforting weight against his side. "Now let's get you to bed before you get yourself killed."

"Aye-aye!” He salutes drunkenly.

If Arthur pretends to be even less coordinated, even more unsteady, so Charles tightens his hold on him until their sides are hugged against one another, well... 

Who the hell could blame him?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I got the horses in the back_
> 
>  
> 
> _horse tack is attached_
> 
>  
> 
> _hat is matte black_
> 
>  
> 
> _got the boots that's black to match_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my bro inspired me AGAIN with these two, so i wrote a tiny sorta-follow-up from charles' pov :D!!! drunk arthur is such a fun thing to write tbh

“Y’know what?” Arthur says on one peaceful, humid night. Charles looks at him, at the ungainly way he’s sitting on a tree stump, pretending to focus on the fire while his eyes flicked over to Charles every other moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t indulge him. Just keep quiet, and he’d get bored and shuffle on to bother some other folk. 

“What?” Charles responds anyway, because of course he does.

“I’unno how a guy like you stays single.” Arthur meets his eyes on purpose this time, and his gaze is lidded. 

The smell of whiskey hangs in the air, heavy and telling. 

It’s happening more and more, it seems. 

Not the _Arthur getting drunk_ part. The _Arthur getting drunk and jokingly(????) making passes at Charles_ part. He was unused to not knowing how to handle a situation, and this...was beginning to get him. Just how many times could you drunkenly stagger over to the same person and flirt with them on accident? Maybe he should limit Arthur's alcohol intake. That was certainly an idea. 

“And why’s that?” Charles responds, making effort to sound disinterested. Unaffected. Best way to dim Arthur’s drunken enthusiasm. 

“Cause you’re...you’re, uh....” Words fail Arthur, and he makes a sweeping motion toward all of Charles. “That!”

“So it’s because I’m attractive?” Charles asks, eyebrow raising. Maybe being blunt could scare him off. 

“Hell yeah.” Arthur replies almost immediately, not one tint of shame in his tone or face. “Is a skunk black and white? _Hell fuckin’ yeah_.” 

That made absolutely no sense, but Charles still has to clear his throat awkwardly and avert his gaze. 

“Ah.”

“Thass’not all, course.” Arthur slurs. 

“What?”

“ _Ah said_ —“ A hand rests against Charles’ shoulder as Arthur leaned forward in an attempt to focus. It bleeds warm into his skin, through the fabric of his clothing. “That’s not all. It’s ‘cause you’re...you. Yaknow.”

Charles really didn’t know. His heartbeat thrums in his ears, and he scratches at his warmed cheek. 

“Because I’m me.” It comes out flat and unimpressed, which he definitely didn’t mean. 

“Yeah! You’re great! A great man, a great friend,” Arthur leans forward and hugs him suddenly, all awkward arms and heavy breaths against Charles’ neck. “And I appreciate ya. A lot, my friend.”

So now he was a sentimental drunk. This wasn’t beneficial for Charles or his health.

Arthur finally pulls back, thankfully doesn’t notice the newly red-faced Charles. 

_He’s drunk, he’s drunk, he’s just drunk_ , Charles’ mind repeats over and over, like a mantra. 

“And a fine piece a’ ass. Can’t forget that!” He adds, slapping his knee and wheezing laughter at Charles’ indignant slap against his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope anyone who reads enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> ....to be completely honest, i have literally never played this game. i wrote this for my bro who adores rdr (and adores charles!) and i watched her play some of the game and also watched some clips with her and fell in love with arthur and charles. she says i got their characterization okay, so i hope anyone who reads this enjoyed!!!


End file.
